Date: Tue, 30 Oct 2012 18:51:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus
Subject: "Phillip's Story" Chapter 8 Gay Male/Authoritarian and Gay Male/Interracial
Phillip's Story
Chapter 8
"The Farm Visit"
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years.
Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): October, 2012
Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories
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Two Young Superiors:
This morning, Master informed me that he is to be visited by his brother,
Sir Lachlan and his nephew, Sir Jon and that their slave Jem will be
accompanying them. I am grateful that Jem will be here to give me a hand to
serve Master and his two guests.
It's not beyond my abilities to serve three Superiors - I have done so on
many occasions - and any white slave worthy of the calling has to be up to
the task. Nevertheless, I will appreciate Jem's presence both as a help in
my duties and for his companionship as we serve our three Masters.
The day promises to be very hot and I expect that Master and the other two
Superiors will make use of the pool to cool off. And of course, Jem and I
will be required to stand alongside the pool ready to serve them.
As always, we must be ready to step forward to serve them cold drinks or
refreshments, to apply sunscreen lotion to protect them from the sun or to
dry their bodies once they leave the water and to settle them comfortably
into their seats in the shade. As slaves, our primary purpose is to ensure
their comfort and well-being and it will be most helpful to have Jem
working with me.
Sometimes, as I watch Master cooling off in the pool, I feel a twinge of
envy at his freedom to do so. As a Black Superior, Master has the freedom -
a freedom denied to me as his white slave - to choose what he can and can't
do. I, on the other hand, as his slave don't have any freedom of choice;
all my decisions are made for me by my Master. He tells me what I can and
can't do.
And there are those nostalgic moments when I wistfully think back to the
time I was free and how, on a spur of the moment decision, I could just
dive into my pool and swim until my heart's content. Now, I must wait for
Master's permission to enter his pool; a permission that's not always
given.
Mostly, permission to swim is a reward from Master. Some days, after a
strenuous and long day of hard labour, Master will tell me I can go for a
swim to cool down. Then, there are those other more joyous occasions when
Master invites me to join him in the pool for a swim. Mostly these are at
night when the temperatures are still high. I have come to look forward to
these memorable nights as Master cavorts with me and lustily uses my body
in the floodlit waters of his pool.
Whether our Masters swim in the pool or doze off in the shade, we must
stand at the modified slave position with our eyes firmly fixed on them and
our minds totally focused on their needs. And we must never fidget! No
Master will tolerate a slave who impatiently hops from foot to foot or who
sighs deeply from his boredom.
Indeed boredom isn't allowed. How can a slave ever be bored if he is
devotedly serving his Owner's needs?
But standing idle for long periods of time can be difficult. Often the
strain caused by our inactivity places great stress on the unused muscles
of our bodies. It's not uncommon for our legs to cramp and of course the
loss of body moisture and salts through our copious sweating aggravates the
situation.
And this situation is compounded on such a day as this promises to
be. Already the sun hangs in the breathless air over the calm waters of the
adjacent Bay and the temperature is climbing rapidly.
Essentially, I'm a cool weather slave. I don't really enjoy the heat and
I'm always glad when the summer finishes. But my dislike of hot weather is
of absolutely no importance. What is important is that I serve my Master
and his guests and not show my discomfort.
Master waits to greet his brother and nephew and I stand at the modified
display position behind him. Naturally, there are protocols that must be
observed despite the heat.
I'd been expecting Sirs Lachlan and Jon with their slave Jem and as their
car pulls up, I'm surprised to see there aren't alone. The thought flashes
through my mind that there will be extra Superiors to serve and I do a
quick, mental inventory of whether or not I have prepared enough food for
them. Fortunately, Master keeps a well-stocked food-pantry and refrigerator
so I knew there'll be no shortage of steaks for the barbecue luncheon
Master has planned.
As Master's guests get out of the car, I see one of them is a young Black
Superior and the other is a white slave of approximately the same age. But
what really surprises me is that this slave and Jem are slave-naked and had
travelled that way from Sir Lachlan's home.
I listen as the young Superior is introduced to Master as Sir Micah, a new
college friend of his nephew, Sir Jon. Judging from the young slave
accompanying Sir Micah, it would appear that Sir Jon has made friends with
another believer in Black Rule.
Once the four Superiors are done with greeting one another it is time for
their slaves to greet them. Jem and Sir Micah's slave kneel and kiss my
Master's feet as at the same time I pay lip homage to Sir Lachlan , Sir Jon
and of course to Sir Micah who I welcome as a first time visitor to my
Master's home.
The Superiors retire inside for refreshments served to them by their three
slaves. Then inevitably, the Superiors focus their attention on their
slaves and we are discussed and inspected. Such inspections are reciprocal
in that each Superior examines the slaves of the other Superiors who are
present. Master examines Sir Micah's slave - whose name I still don't know
- and I, in turn, am examined by Sir Micah. During my fingering, Sir Micah
asks Master questions about me and he seems genuinely surprised to hear
that I have belonged to Master for eleven years.
Of course, my attention is focused on Sir Jon. I want to see if he's
altered much in the time he's been away at college. It is apparent that
he's matured and is supremely self-confident. His manner in dealing with
we slaves is exemplary - he has become a stern Superior - and he does
justice to his Black Rule heritage.
Sir Jon's handling of me is also impressive. I have come to fear him since
that memorable day when my real identity was revealed to him. Since that
day, Sir Jon treats me as the white slave I am. He strongly disapproves of
me and frequently tells Master that I am spoiled and I am allowed too much
latitude. He often tells Master that I need to be controlled more
rigorously than I am and he suggests that I need a sound whipping to teach
me my place. Fortunately, Master has spared me the whip despite Sir Jon's
urging.
However, I have noticed that Master is exercising more discipline over me
than he once did. Often, I am now punished for my poor workmanship or for
other derelictions of duty. Most nights, after I have finished my chores,
Master will order me to face the wall for varying periods of time -
anything up to two hours - or I am made to kneel on all fours and to remain
immobile as I serve as his footstool or an occasional table as he watches
television or reads.
How much of this is as a result of Sir Jon's complaints about me is open to
conjecture.
But I am immensely gratified with Sir Jon's progression into his new role
as a young Black Superior. It's very evident that he is now a force to be
reckoned with and I am so proud of him. I'd lovingly watched as he
progressed through his boyhood into his teenaged years and I'd always
longed for the day when he'd assume his rightful place as a true believer
in Black Supremacy and become a strong advocate of Black Rule. In the
coming days, I will be exposed to Sir Jon's harsh discipline.
Later, as Sir Micah's slave works with Jem and me in the kitchen he tells
us his name is Aaron. His story is an interesting one and I have to say I
am surprised to hear it. He was born into slavery; the progeny of slave
parents who have always belonged to Sir Micah's Family. When Sir Micah
turned sixteen, his grandfather gave him the eighteen year old Aaron as a
general purpose and body slave. Aaron told us that he is a fulltime slave
who serves his Master on a 24/7 basis and lives with his Master who attends
the same college as Sir Jon.
Aaron said that his Master and Sir Jon are now close friends and that his
Master lives in a Black Rule apartment block which belongs to his mother's
family. Aaron believes that Sir Jon is to move into an apartment in the
fall and he has heard that Sir Jon will soon have his own white slave - a
student - to serve him.
Aaron lives in the building with his Master and is always on hand to serve
him. His uncle is the janitor of the building and lives in a small room
down in the basement. Like all the other slaves who are domiciled in the
building, Aaron's uncle is naked at all times, on call 24/7 to meet the
needs of all Black Superiors and is forbidden to ever leave the building.
I am surprised at hearing this. I have been a slave for eleven years and
yet as I listen to Aaron, I realize just how little I really know about
Black Rule and Black Superiors.
The Superiors spend most of the day swimming in the pool. Their slaves are
kept busy running and fetching - bringing sunscreen and fresh towels to
them - and serving them cool refreshing drinks and nibbles on demand.
For lunch, I'd already prepared, corn and salads and I am kept busy cooking
the four Superiors deliciously thick, juicy steaks that make my mouth
water. As the tantalizing odour of steaks sizzling on the hot barbecue waft
through the air, I'm sure the same is true for Jem and Aaron. Surely they
salivate too. As slaves we don't get to eat such luxuries as barbecued
steaks. These rich foods are for our betters and we simply make do on the
leftover salads and cheaper quality hamburgers from the self-service store.
Lunch is a leisurely affair and the Superiors relax and talk among
themselves while Jem, Aaron and I stand at the modified slave position
ready to step forward to assist our Masters. Jem serves his two Masters,
Sir Lachlan and Sir Jon; Aaron waits on his Master, Sir Micah and I of
course attend to my Master's needs.
Later, after his guests have gone, Master tells me more about Sir Micah's
background. He belongs to one of the most prominent and wealthiest Black
Rule Families in the country, The Family have owned white slaves for well
over a century and their success and great wealth stems from their use of
their slaves in a number of successful enterprises. Many of the slaves they
own were born into slavery and are the progeny of slave
parents. Nevertheless, the Family are always looking for new whites to
enslave.
Master also told me how happy and proud he and Sir Lachlan are that Sir Jon
and Sir Micah have become close friends and of how pleased they are that
their son and nephew has been welcomed into such an illustrious, Black Rule
Family
During the day, Jem had told me that his Master and Sir Jon leave the next
day for a ten day visit to Master's parents, Sir Terrel and Mistress
Laqueta and that he is to go with them. Jem also mentioned that Sir Lachlan
had invited Sir Micah and his slave, Aaron to accompany them.
Jem he is very apprehensive about this visit - his first to our Masters'
parents - and I can understand his concern. My feeling is that those ten
days will be very hard ones for the two slaves, Jem and Aaron.
Next day, I think about Sirs Lachlan, Jon and Micah and their three slaves
as they travel the long distance to Master's Parents' farm. Later, Master
tells me he has received a phone call from Sir Lachlan to say they have
arrived safely.
The thought flashes through my mind that most probably Jem and Aaron are
already hard at work. In a way, I am envious and wish I could be with them.
Sometimes wishful thinking has a habit of coming true. For then Master
tells me He wants to visit the farm next weekend and that we'll be
traveling down on Friday and returning home on the following Monday.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Farm:
The drive to Master's Parents' farm takes approximately eight hours and
Master has decided that he'll leave early; very early in fact. We are to
leave before 4.00 AM Friday morning. By leaving so early, Master is hopeful
of avoiding the inevitable crush of holiday traffic.
The night before, Master gave me list of what clothing and other items I am
to pack for him. He also told me I need pack nothing for my own use; not
even a razor. Master told me the only items I'll need are the clothes I'll
wear in the car which in this instance were shorts, a t- shirt and
sneakers.
This didn't really surprise me; I knew I'd be forbidden to wear any
clothing at the farm. But the prohibition of the razor was a
surprise. Normally, Master likes me clean-shaven. However, I knew better
than to query Master over this. Such decisions are his make and I must obey
without question.
We woke at 3.00 AM Friday and I showered Master and then dressed him for
the trip. Master wore smart casual dress consisting of khaki shorts, a
blue polo shirt and sneakers. And of course, he wore underwear.
After I'd finished dressing Master, I thought how smart and well-turned out
he looks. I swelled with pride knowing that I belonged as a slave to such a
handsome Master.
Master had told me I wasn't to wear underwear under my two items clothing
which I quickly donned after I had loaded Master's luggage into the
vehicle.
Master had me drive for the first part of the trip. I drove for four hours
until we stopped for breakfast. After that, Master took the wheel and drove
the rest of the way to the farm.
As we entered the drive leading up to Master's Parents' farmhouse, Master
ordered me to undress. For me to have appeared clothed on his arrival would
have been an affront to his Father and Mother. Both are stern Superiors who
keep their two slaves naked and expect the same of any visiting slaves.
Immediately, I obeyed Master's command and as I shucked, he ordered me to
be on my best behaviour. Master lectured me I was to behave myself, listen
to all commands given to me and to obey them instantly and without
question.
Master's father, Sir Terrell is always critical of me. He has long told
Master that he is too lenient with me and that he should treat me more
harshly. These are the views now shared by his Grandson, Sir Jon who has
said much the same thing to Master and to me.
So I am well aware that Master wants me to make a good impression in front
of his Parents. Any shortcomings on my part will reflect badly on him and
fuel his Father's criticism of me. And of course, any poor performance by
me would embarrass Master in front of his Parents and cause him to lose
face in their eyes.
Master's Parents, Sir Terrell and Mistress Laqueta wait with his Brother,
Sir Lachlan to welcome Master. I stand to one side as the Superiors embrace
and enthusiastically greet one another. When they finish, it is my turn to
greet them. I fall to my knees and crawl to them and kiss their feet.
As the Superiors enter the house, Sir Terrell turns and slaps my face -
very hard.
The slapping of a slave's face is very commonplace and is standard
practice. All Black Superiors routinely slap their slaves over the face. My
Master slaps my face when he is angry with me, when he wants to gain my
attention or to simply humiliate me.
I suspect these are the three main reasons why our Owners do slap us. For
me personally - and I couldn't even begin to say how many times I have been
slapped - it is one of the most humiliating things that can happen to
me. There is something very degrading about standing mute as you are
slapped like a naughty child.
The degree of pain a slave feels from a slap to the face depends on who
does the slapping. Some slaps are gentle and are probably given to refocus
a slave's wandering attention back onto his Owner's needs. I have been in
this situation and the discomfort caused by such a slap is minimal.
However, slaps given in anger or disapproval can be more painful depending
on the depth of the Master's anger or dissatisfaction. It can range from a
quick, stinging blow to one of "teeth-rattling" severity.
And it is the teeth-rattling type that I receive from Sir Terrell. I know I
will carry the red imprint of his hand on my cheek for quite a while.
Sir Terrell wastes no time in putting me to work; I'm not even given any
lunch. I have only been here a matter of minutes and he assigns me my first
duty. Sir Terrell isn't one to have a slave standing idly around. To his
mind a slave must be gainfully employed at all time. I am sure one of his
maxims for slave behaviour would be- "an idle slave makes for a lazy
slave".
Anyway, I'm not to be idle - or lazy. He gestures to the allotment that
surrounds the house and tells me I am to mow the grass and that he expects
it to be done by nightfall.
The house stands on a large allotment of land and the grass is long and
lush. I look with some dismay at the task that Sir Terrell has given me. I
worry that I won't finish by his deadline and I know I'll be punished if I
don't.
Sir Terrell tells me where I'll find the hand operated mower and I run off
to fetch it and make an immediate start on mowing the grass.
Initially, I'm on my own. There are no others around me and I look to see
if I can catch sight of Jem and Aaron but they are nowhere to be seen. I
reason that they are working in some other part of the farm - perhaps out
in the fields.
The day is warm and very soon I am sweating as I push the mower over the
grassed area. The hard work doesn't worry me; as a slave I enjoy hard
work. One of my favourite slave duties is the "field-work" I do at Master's
home which sits amid six spacious acres of lawns, gardens and trees and
where there is always scope for field-duties. Master is fastidious about
both his home and grounds and he keeps me busy maintaining both to the
highest standards. So cutting Sir Terrell's grassed area isn't a problem
for me. My only concern is that I finish by Sir Terrell's deadline and
avoid any punishment.
Of course there is no respite from my labours. I know better than to
slacken off or to take a rest break. These aren't allowed a slave unless
his Master gives him leave to do either. And Sir Terrell has given me
neither. So I continue to work at a steady pace and I am left on my own.
Later, and I estimate I have been mowing for several hours, I hear voices
and looking towards the house I see that Master, his Parents, Brother and
another Superior couple who is unknown to me are relaxing on a patio. They
are attended by Master's Parents' white, female slave who I do know. Like
me she is naked and she serves the Superiors with cool drinks and other
refreshments. In between serving, she stands in the modified slave position
waiting for her Master's or Mistress's next command.
As I work in close proximity to the Superiors, I hear Sir Lachlan summon
the female slave to where he is sitting. I shouldn't be looking but it is
difficult not to observe my Superiors from where I am working and I see Sir
Lachlan finger the female slave in front of the other Superiors.
I hear their laughter and the buzz of their conversation; but I am too far
away to hear what they are saying. And besides their conversation is of no
concern to me; all my attention and energy must be concentrated on pushing
the mower forward.
At one point, Sir Terrell comes over to check on my progress and to inspect
my work. He is unhappy with me and he uses his crop on my "sorry, white
ass" to make me work harder and speed me along. As the crop slashes across
my ass, I feel the full weight of his displeasure.
In my mind's eye, I try to picture the scene from the Superiors' viewpoint
as they relax and watch me as I work. No doubt, the scene is quite
pastoral; the farm's natural beauty and tranquillity lends it an air of
almost "old-world" charm.
I think back to the days of institutionalized slavery and make the
comparison to my situation. Back then white Master's and Mistresses relaxed
in the shade of wide porches and sipped Bourbon and mint juleps as they
enjoyed the fruits of their Black slaves' labours. Today, my Black Master
and his Family relax as their white slaves toil and sweat for them. It
seems to me that Black Rule goes someway to righting the cruel injustices
of the past and that my toil is an inadequate atonement for the sins of the
white race.
Eventually, Sir Jon and Sir Micah join the older Superiors on the patio and
the female slave serves them cool drinks and refreshments. I wonder where
they'd come from and what they'd been doing? Had they been with Jem and
Aaron on another part of the farm and if so what work employs the two
slaves? I am looking forward to speaking with Jem and to finding out how he
is faring. His Master had brought him to the farm last Monday which means
he has been working for four days.
And I wonder if Jem's apprehension about visiting the farm was justified.
As the afternoon ages and the shadows lengthen, the Superiors move indoors
and once more I'm left alone to continue with my grass cutting. I mow until
dusk when fortuitously I finish the work that Sir Terrell had given me.
Naturally, I am very dirty, sweaty and smelly after my afternoon's labour
and I wash myself under a cold water garden hose. The female slave fetches
me some old towels to dry myself and when I am finished I join her in the
kitchen.
Tonight, I'm not required to wait on table or to serve the Superiors in the
dining-room and so I work with the female slave at the more menial tasks of
washing dishes and general tidying up.
Once the Superiors have finished dining it is the turn of the slaves to eat
the leftover remnants of their meal. As I eat, Master sends me a note.
In his note, Master orders me to go immediately to Sir Terrell's den and to
kneel in the centre of the room in the full display position and to wait
for Sir Terrell's arrival. Master tells me that Sir Terrell is to use me
sexually and that I am to willingly obey all of his Father's commands and
to cheerfully co-operate with him. Tonight, I am to be a loaned slave;
given by my Master to his Father for his sexual gratification and pleasure.
I hasten to obey Master's command and hurry to Sir Terrell's den where I
take up the position he'd demanded of me. Now I wait nervously on my knees
for Sir Terrell's arrival; I have no idea if it will be imminent or later
in the night.
One thing a slave must learn - and learn quickly - is to be
patient. Everything that happens to him is at the whim of his Master. Time
belongs to the Master and not to the slave and so I must wait on Sir
Terrell' pleasure. How long I wait is open to conjecture; a slave waiting
on his knees for a Superior's arrival has no way of marking the passing of
the minutes or the hours. I don't have a watch and there is no clock facing
me and therefore, I have no way of knowing how long I am on my knees.
I only know that kneeling immobilized - for I am forbidden to move or to
fidget - with my hands clasped behind my head places strain on my taut
muscles and cramps my legs. And my fear of Sir Terrell fuels my
apprehension.
Suddenly the door opens and Sir Terrell enters the room. He walks slowly
around my kneeling form before ordering me to my feet and to present my
body for his inspection.
Sir Terrell is an expert at examining a slave's body. This isn't the first
time that I have been inspected by him and so I know what to
expect. Dispassionately, his well-practised hands roam freely over my
nakedness poking and prodding to test the firmness of my body. He hefts my
balls and balances them in his cupped hand as though he is weighing
them. He stretches my cock to its full length and despite my nervousness, I
find myself responding positively to his stimulation. Next he orders me to
turn as he examines my rear. His hands grasp my ass-cheeks and he squeezes
hard. I am made to "bend and spread" and his finger traverses my asscrack
and explores my asshole.
"Boy! You have a nice, tight asshole!"
Sir Terrell compliments me. And I know I must thank him for it.
"Thank you, Sir!"
"Obviously, your Master takes good care of his property, slave."
"Yes Sir! My Master values his property and he does take good care of his
slave, Sir!"
Next he orders me to stand and face him as he examines my mouth and
teeth. Obviously satisfied, he commands me.
"Let's have you on your hands and knees boy. Spread your knees and open up
your white slave's ass. NOW!"
I assume the "all fours" position as commanded and I know that his use of
my body for his pleasure is imminent. Sir Terrell positions himself behind
me and I feel the hardness and the blood-heat of his erection pushing
against my asshole. Conscious of my Master's orders for me to co-operate, I
relax and allow Sir Terrell to thrust into me.
Sir Terrell makes good use of my ass several times before he is satisfied!
The first time Sir Terrell doesn't lubricate me and his use of me is best
described as "hard". I wonder if he is doing this deliberately. Perhaps he
is demonstrating his contempt of me as an inferior, white slave or it might
just be to humiliate me. Whatever the reason, Sir Terrell's "dry use" of me
isn't enjoyable. It hurts and I see starbursts and white lights dancing
before my eyes with each powerful lunge of his hips. As his cock penetrates
deeper into me, I realise that I'm here for Sir Terrell's sexual
gratification and not for my enjoyment. Whether or not I receive any
pleasure from Sir's powerful thrusting is immaterial. My Master has sent me
here and told me that I must obey without question. I have no recourse
other than to submit to Sir Terrell's enthusiastic use of my ass.
Finally, Sir Terrell is finished with me; he slaps my ass and dismisses me.
"Boy, go to the laundry and wait there until an overseer comes to collect
you in the morning. He'll give you your duties for tomorrow."
I spend a lonely night lying on the laundry floor. Normally, when Master
visits his Parents I sleep on the floor alongside his bed. Tonight, I sleep
on the floor of the laundry and I am missing my Master. Despite this, I am
bone-weary from my labours and tired from Sir Terrell's use of me and I
drift in and out of a fitful sleep.
The long day spent travelling from Master's home to the farm and the hard
labour given to me by Sir Terrell on our arrival has obviously tired me and
I am sleeping soundly when a young overseer comes to collect me for my
day's labour. I am woken by a sharp pain cutting across my sleeping form
and I am ordered to my feet.
"Wake Up! Up on your feet, white boy! It's time to get you out of here and
into the fields working!"
As I scramble to my feet, I catch a fleeting glimpse of the overseer. And I
notice the short whip he carries which explains the sudden pain I'd felt as
I was woken up. It's a new day and already I have felt the whip on my
body. During the coming days, I will feel this whip many more times.
The overseer is a young Black Superior - as you'd expect on Sir Terrell's
farm - and he is dressed in clean shorts and a crisp polo shirt. I estimate
his age at about sixteen but he exudes the authority and self-confidence of
someone much older.
Later, I am to learn that his name is Sir Jazeel and that he is spending
the summer vacation working on Sir Terrell's farm as a slave overseer.
The overseer grabs my cock and leads me outdoors. It is still early -
probably not yet 6.00 AM but already the humidity is high and it promises
to be a hot day. My bladder is full to bursting and I desperately need to
pee. But I'm not given the opportunity to relieve myself.
Instead Sir Jazeel cock-leads me across the farmyard towards a barn and for
the first time I see Jem and Aaron working with another naked, white, male
slave loading empty boxes onto a farm-wagon. This slave is unknown to me
and I estimate his age is about thirty-five. The three slaves are in a
sorry state; I barely recognize Jem and Aaron from the clean, immaculate
slaves who'd served with me last weekend at Master's home.
All three are filthy; their naked bodies are coated in dirt and dry
sweat. They haven't shaved for days and their tired faces are heavily
stubbled. Now I know why Master had told me I'll not need a razor. As field
slaves the time taken to shave would be time wasted.
But more ominously, their bodies displayed Sir Jazeel's use of his
whip. Their torsos and their asses were heavily welted.
Sir Jazeel wastes no time and instructs me to start loading boxes onto the
wagon with the other three slaves.
"Get to it boy! Start loading those empty boxes and be quick about it! And
there's to be NO TALKING! You're here to work. Now get to it!"
My need to urinate is becoming urgent and I ask the young Overseer's
permission to pee.
"Please Sir, may I pee?"
I am unprepared for his re-action to my request. Viciously, he slaps my
face with teeth rattling intensity and admonishes me.
"Slave, if you need to piss then you just piss like any other animal. 'Cos
that's what you are; you're a white slave animal. And don't you ever forget
it!"
My urgent need to pee quickly evaporates and I begin loading the boxes onto
the wagon along with Jem, Aaron and the third slave. However, after ten
minutes, I can't hold back any longer and I piss where I stand. As my piss
splatters noisily on to the ground and the puddle at my feet grows bigger,
I am humiliated and look to see if anyone is watching. My fellow slaves -
perhaps out of consideration for my feelings -aren't looking in my
direction and pay me no attention; they continue to load the empty boxes.
Sir Jazeel however laughs loudly at my very public humiliation. But it is a
humiliation I must soon lose. Over the next few days it will be common
practise for me to piss in situ as I work.
I'm learning that Sir Jazeel is an impatient overseer. He is determined to
make us work as quickly as possible and he shouts at us to.
"Hurry up! We haven't all day to waste. There's a crop to harvest. Move
your lazy, white asses or you'll feel my whip. NOW MOVE YOURSELVES!"
I notice that my three fellow slaves speed up the pace of their work and I
decide that I must follow their lead. Soon we have the wagon fully loaded
with empty crates and I wonder what is to happen next. I don't have long to
wait. Sir Jazeel pairs us off and orders us to the front of the wagon. Once
we are in position, he orders us to pull the wagon out into the fields. All
four of us strain to keep the wagon moving and Sir Jazeel enthusiastically
encourages us with his whip. He walks beside us and crosses from side to
side so that he can put his whip to our straining backs and shoulders. For
the second time I feel his whip on my body. It certainly has the desired
effect and I lunge forward and pull even harder than before.
I and my three fellow slaves serve as beasts-of-burden as we pull the
partially laden wagon behind us. Already I feel the cart's weight dragging
on me and I realize that the boxes are empty. It occurs to me that when the
crates are filled with whatever produce is being harvested our task will
become that much harder.
Since my arrival I haven't spoken to Jem or Aaron as Sir Jazeel has
specifically forbidden us to speak and I don't know what work they are
employed at. But their dishevelled state tells me that it is onerous and
the whip marks on their upper bodies and asses tells me they are driven
hard. I guess I'm soon to find out for myself.
We are driven out to a distant field and ordered by Sir Jazeel to - "Stop!"
I see we are in a field of tomato plants and obviously we are to harvest
the ripened fruit. I look at the orderly, straight rows stretching away
into the distance; there is something almost regimented in how the plants
grow. Like soldiers standing at attention on a parade- ground, they stand
tall in very precise rows. The rich earth between these rows is weed-free
and made dark -damp from the overnight dew and recent rains. The pleasant
aroma that one associates with tomato plants hangs in the humid, early
morning air. Already, the temperature is climbing and today promises to be
very hot.
In keeping with our true status as naked slaves we aren't permitted to wear
sunhats or sun glasses. However, we are allowed to wear sunscreen to
protect us against serious sunburn. I suppose this is done so that our
productivity isn't adversely affected; a badly burned slave would naturally
be slowed down by this painful condition.
To protect us from the sun's burning rays, the overseer hands us tubes of
sunblock of the highest SPF factor. This gives us the maximum protection
against sunburn and we are told to apply it liberally to our own and each
other's' bodies; Sir Jazeel supervises as we apply it to one another in
those hard to reach places like the back and shoulders. And he laughingly
reminds us to generously coat our cocks and balls to safeguard against
painful burning.
I'm reminded of the recent incident when working with Jem and another slave
at Master's home. On that occasion, Jem, through his newness to slavery and
his inexperience as a naked slave never thought to coat his cock and balls
with sunscreen and he'd been badly sunburned. This had angered his Master,
Sir Lachlan who'd been forced to take Jem to the Vet for treatment. It had
also angered my Master who blamed me for Jem's condition. He told me that
in not ensuring that Jem was adequately protected against sunburn, I'd not
taken proper care of his Brother's property.
Both Jem and I paid a high price for his sunburned cock. The following
Saturday night, Master took me to Sir Lachlan's home where both Jem and I
were severely caned by our Masters. It was a lesson well-learned by both of
us. Jem now knows that he must ensure that his body - which rightfully is
his Master's property - is at all times treated with respect and for my
part, I learned that I must always be aware that I have a responsibility to
see that Jem takes all precautions to safeguard his Owner's property.
Sir Jazeel orders us to each take an empty box from the wagon and assigns
us a row of tomato plants. Then, no doubt as a demonstration to me, he
stoops and picks a ripened tomato. He shows it to me and tells me.
"Boy, you only pick ripened tomatoes this size and above. You don't pick
any that are smaller than this. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Yes Sir!"
"Good! Make sure you pick them carefully and place them gently in your
crate. Don't squeeze or bruise them and don't just throw them or drop them
into the box. Do you get that slave?"
"Yes Sir!"
"These are special tomatoes. Because they are organically grown and
hand-harvested, you can only buy them in top-end food stores. They are
over-priced but your white friends don't seem to care about that."
This is all news to me. I'd never thought about where our food or farm
produce comes from. But who does? Do city customers really concern
themselves where the fruit and vegetables that stock the display stands in
the supermarkets and stores are grown or how they are harvested? Of course
not! They have a vague notion that it comes from a farm but that is the
extent of their knowledge - or interest. The things that bother them the
most are the freshness and availability of their produce. And today, I am
to learn more about this at first hand.
Suddenly, Sir Jazeel begins to laugh.
"Here's something for you to think about as you work, slave. What would
your whitey family and friends think if they could see you working as a
naked slave picking these overpriced tomatoes? And how many would know that
buying them advances the cause of Black Rule?"
I take the overseer's point. None of my family or former white friends
would have the remotest idea that these tomatoes are hand-picked by white
slaves who are owned by Black Superiors. Such a thought would never occur
to them and they'd only have the vaguest - if any - interest in Black Rule.
"That's enough talking from me! It's time you boys got to work. Now get to
it!"
My three companions know what is expected of them. But I don't and I look
to take my lead from Jem, Aaron and the other slave. But the young
overseer, recognizing my inexperience, gives me instructions.
"Boy, you work on all fours. You crawl on your hands and knees and drag
your box along with you as you move from bush to bush. You pick the ripe
tomatoes and carefully place them in your box. Once your box is full you
take it to the end of the row and collect another empty box and start
over. Are you with me so far, slave?"
"Yes Sir!"
Something tells me to keep my answers brief. I'm in awe of this young Black
Superior, who, at just sixteen years is already capable of controlling
slaves who are much older than he is. He has an air of authority that
tells you not to argue with him or to defy him. His manner is intimidating
and I see him as a proud example of Black Supremacy.
"Boy, you stay on your hands and knees as you work. You don't stand up
until I tell you that you can. And that won't be until you break for lunch
at midday. As I said you don't stand for any reason - not even to piss. If
you do need to piss then piss where you work just like the work animal that
you are. Now get to it and work fast!"
Already my three fellow slaves are on their hands and knees searching among
the plants for suitable tomatoes to pick. I drop to my knees and make a
hesitant start as I rummage through my first tomato bush looking for the
right sized fruit to pick. It's not easy. The fruit is at varying stages of
development; some are small and still green. Others are of a size or a
ripeness that isn't yet ready to pluck from the bush. I suppose I am being
overly cautious but I'm conscious that I must do as Sir Jazeel has
instructed.
I guess my hesitancy has made me too careful. Above me I hear a whistling
sound followed by a loud 'thwack" as Sir Jazeel's whip cuts across my
back. I yelp with the sudden unexpectedness of this and I wince with the
pain it causes me.
"Get moving, boy! Get your lazy, white boy ass into gear." The overseer's
words have the desired effect and I do move quicker. Then, Sir Jazeel tells
me.
"Spread your legs, slave! I want to see your balls hanging low and swinging
free between your thighs. And I want to see your asshole exposed at all
times. Whenever, I look at you I want to see your asshole winking at
me. Give me some 'eye-candy', boy!"
And to emphasize his command, he applies his whip to me once more.
My reaction is immediate and responsive. I move my knees apart and I am
very conscious that my balls are hanging low between my outstretched
legs. I have low-hanging balls - something that Black Superiors often
comment about - and one hangs slightly lower than the other. As I move from
bush to bush, I do feel them "swinging" from side to side. I will find that
as the heat of the day increases then my balls will hang correspondingly
lower.
And the other consequence of having to spread my legs is that my asshole is
now on prominent display. I feel the stretching apart of my ass-cheeks and
the opening up of my anus which of course adds to my humiliation.
All Black Superiors like their white slaves to prominently "display" their
genitals and assholes. Its incumbent on a white slave to make sure that
when he is with his Master that his cock and balls are always thrust
forward and that his asshole is open to scrutiny. It is one of the first
lessons taught to a new white slave by his Master.
Suddenly, I am very conscious of my animal status. Today, I truly am a
field-slave!
I can't describe how hard the work is. Crawling on all fours, dragging a
partially full box along behind me from bush to bush and searching for the
right sized tomatoes to pick is harder than I suppose. Add to this the
sun's increasing heat constantly beating down on my naked body; my copious
sweating and the constant sting of Sir Jazeel's whip are pure torture.
Crawling through the damp earth and the lingering rain puddles just adds to
my discomfort. Soon my knees are raw from the constant crawling and my
legs are covered in dirt. I know that I am well on the way to becoming as
filthy and as dishevelled as my three fellow slaves.
Time drags and I long for a rest. But hadn't my overseer said I am to stay
on all fours until our midday meal. I have no way of knowing the time, but
I estimate it would be no later than 8.00 AM. Midday - and my lunch break -
looms like an eternity before me.
I notice a pavilion type structure at the edge of the field. It is about
ten feet square and open sided - no doubt to catch any cool breezes - and
it has a colourful canvas roof to provide shade. Within the pavilion, I see
a table and two chairs. I wonder about it purpose. Is it here for Sir
Jazeel's use?
Suddenly there is relief - of a sort - to the morning's oppressive heat. A
sudden, short, heavy shower of rain - the first of the intermittent ones
that are to plague us throughout the day - cools me down but adds to my
discomfort. It leaves me cold, damp and shivering and as I look at the
other three slaves I see they share my misery as we continue working. The
earth beneath me turns to mud and as I crawl forward dragging my box behind
me my body- and even my balls - become mud-splattered.
Then, as suddenly as the rain had started it stops and the sun breaks
through with greater heat than before the shower. The rain has added to the
humidity and the working conditions become sauna-like; now my shivering
gives way to copious sweating. I feel the beads of perspiration trickling
down my ass-crack and dripping from the end of my nose and from my chest
and belly.
And I am thirsty. How do I convey that to Sir Jazeel? He has forbidden us
to speak and I am afraid to ask for water.
But providentially, he gives each of us a bottle of water to drink. As I
gulp mine it feels like nectar from heaven. Never has water tasted so sweet
and refreshing. And I am to discover that each hour; we will be given more
water to slake our thirst and to replace the body moisture we lose through
our constant sweating. How grateful I am to my Superiors for their
consideration to us.
After I have worked for several hours - I estimate from the sun's position
that is now mid- morning - I hear voices approaching and I see Sir Jon and
Sir Micah walk past where I am working. They ignore us and don't pay us any
attention as they move into the shade of the pavilion.
They are followed by a young, white teenager and judging by his nudity and
his demeanour he is obviously a slave. He waits patiently and silently as
both Sir Jon and Sir Micah take their seats at the table. Then, the young
slave steps forwards and sets out a chessboard for his two Superiors. He
serves them cool drinks and then he stands slightly behind them and fans
them to keep them cool. I am reminded of something from the Arabian Nights
or a scene from some movie epic that portrays Masters and slaves in ancient
Egypt or Rome.
Apart from yesterday afternoon, this is the first time I have seen either
Sir Jon or Sir Micah since last Sunday when I served them lunch at Master's
home. I wonder what activities they have been involved with over the
intervening five days.
For the rest of the morning, I continue to work with my head down and my
ass up. I'm mindful of Sir Jazeel's instruction to keep my legs spread so
that my cock and balls and my asshole are displayed at all
times. Surprisingly, picking the tomatoes becomes easier but the work is
onerous. I guess I'm learning the routine of my labour and I am gaining in
confidence.
But even so, I am not spared the whip and soon my body is welted like the
other three slaves.
After what seems an interminably lengthy time, our overseer calls a halt to
our work -it is lunch time - and he allows the four of us to rest in the
shade of a nearby tree as we eat our lunch. I am ready for food - my belly
is rumbling - and I wonder what food will be given to us. Obviously, we
are on light rations for we are given nothing more substantial than energy
bars and water for our lunch.
I read in a slave story once that some owners don't believe in feeding
their slaves during the working hours as a full belly makes a slave
sluggish. I doubt very much that my meal will make me sluggish. I think
ahead to my next meal and I hope that it will be more substantial than this
one.
There is one concession given to us as we rest and eat our lunches. We are
allowed to talk. I hear that Jem and Aaron were put to work as soon as they
arrived at the farm last Monday and they have been labouring in the fields
since then. And I hear that the other slave has been working on the farm
since the beginning of the summer vacation.
I am introduced to the other slave and his name is Ralph. He tells me he is
the property of a friend of Mistress Laqueta, my Master's Mother, that he
is aged thirty-six and is a high school teacher. His Master is away on a
business trip and had sent him to work on the farm for the entire summer.
Ralph tells me his story and I am interested to hear he has been a white
slave to the Black Race for fourteen years and was first enslaved by the
Black Principal of the school where he began his teaching career.
During our lunch break, the young slave who is attending to Sir Jon and Sir
Micah runs over to where we are resting and tells us that the two "Sirs"
command slave phillip's immediate presence.
I scramble to my feet and run with the young slave back to the pavilion
where Sir Jon and Sir Micah are eating lunch. I assume the full display
position and wait for them to acknowledge my presence.
I look enviously at the Superiors' lunch. They are dining on thick, juicy
steaks - the smell of which taunts me after my own uninspiring lunch of
energy bars and water - and delicious, crisp salads. As I watch the two
Superiors heartily eat their lunch, I am acutely aware of the disparity
between what a Black Superior eats and what he gives his slave to eat and
this sets my stomach rumbling.
I'm still standing in the full slave display position and I wait as Sir Jon
and Sir Micah finish eating. Eventually, Sir Jon stands and walks over to
where I'm standing. He walks around me several times, no doubt perusing my
body and then, without a word, he grabs my balls and holds them in his
cupped hand. Releasing them, he contemptuously slaps my balls - hard. The
shock of my balls being hit so hard makes me gasp and I have that awful,
sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach that always accompanies any
sudden, unexpected trauma to the testicles.
"Are you having as good time, boy?"
Sir Jon's question taunts me but I have just one answer that I can give in
reply.
"Yes Sir!"
"Then tell me, slave! Why are you so dirty?"
Sir Jon's questions continue to mock me.
"Sir, I'm just a slave working hard to please my Superiors."
Obviously, my answer displeases Sir Jon and delivers two, stinging slaps to
my face.
"That was the wrong answer, boy. When a Superior asks you a question think
before you answer and make sure your reply is the correct one. Now I'll ask
you again. Why are you so dirty, slave?"
"Sir, because I am an inferior, white slave to the Black Race and working
like an animal in the mud for my Superiors' benefit."
"Slave, it seems to me that you're not working hard enough. You're here to
work hard. What do you think this is - a vacation?"
"No Sir! I'm here to work hard for your Grandfather, Sir!"
"Slave, you need to be punished. I'm going to cane your ass - HARD! Turn
around and bend over."
Sir Jon retrieves a cane from somewhere - I'm not sure from where - and he
gives me ten cuts across my ass with it. There is viciousness in Sir Jon's
use of the cane and He delivers each blow with the full force of his
strength. Each strike is given slowly and methodically so that I can savour
the pain. I grit my teeth and try not to cry out. After about the fourth
strike, my eyes are swimming with tears.
Once Sir Jon has finished caning my ass I stand and face him once more.
"Slave, your Master is too lenient with you and you take advantage of his
good nature. What you need is a stronger hand to remind you constantly of
your true, white slave status."
"Yes Sir! Thank you Sir for reminding me of what I am. Thank you, Sir!"
I hope my contrite answer is humble enough to mollify Sir Jon's displeasure
with me.
Sir Jon dismisses me and sends me back to work. But as he does so he
instructs Sir Jazeel to make sure I don't slacken off in my labours and to
use his whip to lash me and drive me to work harder.
I have to say that Sir Jazeel takes Sir Jon at his word quite literally and
for the rest of the day, I am lashed continuously. I become better
acquainted with the whip as it cuts across my back, shoulders and ass. The
whip is six feet in length and it has a long reach; it coils itself around
the trunk of my body and tears at my chest and belly and before long I am
as striped and welted as Jem, Aaron and Ralph. In novels, you read that the
sound a leather whip makes is like a loud "crack". This isn't the case with
Sir Jazeel's whip; the sound it makes is more of a "whistle" and I soon
learn to recognize this ominous, warning as the overseer aims it at my
back.
My three slave companions have obviously suffered the whip much longer than
I have. Nevertheless, as they see the whip used on me it serves to make
them work harder and quicker. No doubt, they are most anxious to avoid
additional punishment.
My energies are taken up with my work but my thoughts are with my Master. I
haven't seen him since we arrived at the farm yesterday and I miss his
presence. I missed sleeping on the floor alongside his bed last night and I
miss serving him. I wonder how my Master is spending his day. Most
probably, he is relaxing with his Parents and his Brother, Sir Lachlan. I
know my Master had looked forward to this weekend and to spending time with
his Family.
I do however see Master's Father, Sir Terrell. At one stage, I catch a
glimpse of him mounted on horseback riding around his farm. Eventually, he
rides over to the field where I am working and he pauses to watch his
slaves as they work. His presence is intimidating and if it's possible all
four slaves increase the pace of our work to please him. None of us want to
anger him. Sir Terrell towers over us as he gazes down on our crouching
forms from his saddle. He doesn't speak to us but he does question Sir
Jazeel on our productivity and the progress of the harvest. Before riding
off, he compliments the young overseer for his diligence to his duties and
for his strict discipline of the slaves under his control. Sir Terrell
tells Sir Jazeel not to be afraid to use his whip on us to encourage to
greater effort.
This then is the pattern for the remainder of the day; unremitting hard
labour, Sir Jazeel's constant haranguing of us to work harder and faster,
the sting of his lash to make us do so and the alternating cold of the rain
and the searing heat of the sun. Add to this our shivering in the wet, our
copious sweating in the heat and the constant crawling through the mud and
you have some idea of our misery.
The day proves to be a long one. It is the height of summer; the days are
long and our Superiors make full use of every daylight hour. It was 6.00 AM
when we began our labours and it is 8.00 PM when we cease them. At dusk our
overseer calls a halt to our labours and orders us to haul the heavily
laden wagon back to a distant shed. I'd thought pulling the empty wagon
into the field was hard work; but this return trip with a full load of
freshly harvested tomatoes really taxes my strength. All four of us strain
to pull the heavy wagon behind us. The wet earth and the mud make our task
that much harder as our bare feet slip and slither beneath us.
If I thought my day's work would cease once we were back at the shed I am
mistaken. There is still an hour's work to be completed before we are
dismissed, hosed down, fed and watered and allowed to rest for the night.
Each fully loaded crate must be unloaded, weighed and then loaded onto a
waiting truck. I follow the lead of my fellow slaves - obviously they have
done this each night since their arrival and know what to do - and I remove
a crate from the wagon and place it on a set of industrial scales where it
is weighed and numbered by Sir Jazeel who then records these in a
book. This proves to be hard work; each box is heavy and after an hour of
constantly unloading, weighing and reloading the crates my muscles begin to
ache from the strain.
It takes an hour for us to complete this job after which we are taken to a
compost heap where we are told to relieve ourselves before we are hosed
down under a cold water tap to remove the worst of today's grime from our
bodies. Our Masters are present as we are hosed down. They comment on us
and after the hose is turned off they inspect our bodies; satisfied that we
are none the worse for wear - apart from our whip stripes and welts - they
dismiss us for the night and send us to a barn to sleep.
Here we are given our evening meal of cold hamburgers and water. As I eat
my evening meal, I think of Master and the other Superiors eating in the
dining-room up at the farmhouse. I remember the nights I have served in
that same dining-room and of the sumptuous meals that are routinely served
to our Superiors. Sir Terrell always provides well for his guests.
After we have eaten our simple meal, we are shown into a stall with freshly
strewn straw on the floor and ordered to settle down for the night.
All four of us are bone-weary, miserable and tired beyond relief. Yet,
after the enforced silence of our work-day, we welcome this opportunity to
speak together. The topics range over the subjects of Black Rule, our white
slavery to Black Superiors, our working conditions and how tired our aching
bodies are.
Inevitably our talk turns to Sir Terrell. We all agree that he is a stern
Black Superior and a hard taskmaster who demands much from a white slave
and will spare the slave nothing in obtaining every ounce of effort from
him. Obviously, all four of us live in fear of angering Sir Terrell and as
we talk about him, I learn that Jem, Aaron and Ralph have all been used
sexually by him in the same way he'd used me last night in his den.
Perhaps his use of us in this manner is an expression of his contempt for
the white race in general and for his Family's white slaves in particular!
Soon, all four of us drift into a heavy sleep that will partly recuperate
our tired bodies and prepare us for a similar day tomorrow.
Promptly at 6.00 AM the next morning, Sunday, Sir Jazeel wakes us with the
liberal use of his whip and orders us to our feet.
He drives us back to the compost heap where we relieve ourselves. Once we
have finished, we are given out breakfast of cold cereal and water. Then it
is time to load up the wagon with empty boxes and to haul it into the
fields for another day's labour.
However, today there is a small change to our routine. Instead of picking
tomatoes we harvest cucumbers. But in all other aspects, today is a repeat
of yesterday.
This is my last day labouring at the farm. Tomorrow Master is returning
home with me. I guess this helps get me through the day. Unhappily for
them, the other three slaves are to labour on.
I hear that Sir Lachlan is staying until next Saturday when he'll return
home taking Jem with him
Sir Jon and Sir Micah will remain at the farm for another week after that
before returning to the city.
Poor Ralph! He will remain at the farm until his Master returns from his
business trip at the end of the summer vacation. I don't envy Ralph; the
intensity of his slave duties will continue unabated until he is collected
by his Owner.
As I said today is a repeat of yesterday. All four of us suffer the same
damp coldness from the intermittent rain showers, the enervating,
energy-sapping heat of a remorseless sun that breaks through between those
showers, the continual crawling through the mud dragging our quickly
filling boxes behind us and the whip. Sir Jazeel continues to whip us
urging us to work harder and increase the productivity of our labours.
Midway through the day, Master and his Brother, Sir Lachlan pay us a
visit. They watch us as we work and then talk to Sir Jazeel. I don't hear
their conversation but I suspect that Master asks about our
productivity. However, I do hear Sir Jazeel's reply.
"No, the slaves aren't working to their full capacity. I believe they could
work harder."
"Jazeel, just use your whip on them!" I hear Master tell the young
overseer. "Use it and make them work harder and faster."
Then, I hear Master's shouted command to me.
"Slave, get your lazy ass over here. NOW!"
I run to Master and assume the full display position. Master slowly looks
at me and I must present him with a very sorry sight. My whip-lashed body
is coated in dirt, my legs are caked with mud - even my cock and balls are
mud-splattered - and I am unshaven. I know I am malodorous for I can smell
my sourness - a mixture of my stale sweat and the grime that clings to
me. I must stink to "high heaven". I know this is so because I have smelt
my three, fellow slaves who have worked in the fields much longer than I
have and they are, to put it delicately, "on the nose".
My body also shows the evidence of Sir Jazeel's whip; my shoulders, back
and ass are covered in red stripes and these even extend around to my
front. There is one particular welt that troubles me. At some stage the
whip had wrapped itself around me and cut across my nipples. The angry welt
is raised and very red. Master surveys me for several moments and dismisses
me with a curt command.
"Get back to work!"
I hasten to obey and work conscientiously and industriously for the
remainder of the day. Then at dusk, we haul the results of our labour into
the shed where the boxes of freshly harvested cucumbers are unloaded,
weighed and placed on the waiting truck.
I spend my last night in the barn stall with Jem, Aaron and Ralph. We are
given our evening meal of cold hotdogs and water. Then it is time to sleep.
Next morning, when I awake, Master collects me and we return home. Master
is clean and dressed in fresh clean clothes. In contrast, I am dirty and
dishevelled from my three days labouring as a field-slave on Sir Terrell's
farm. It is only when we arrive home that Master gives me permission to
clean myself.
How I appreciate the chance to clean away the grime and stale sweat of my
labours and to shave. Never has a razor been more appreciated or a shower
enjoyed so much.
It feels good to home again with just my Master. Now I can give him my
undivided attention and I can lavish all my devotion on him and to serve
him as he deserves to be served.
Over the next few days, the whip welt on my chest continues to bother me -
it's very painful - and Master is keeping a close watch on it. Finally, he
takes to the Vet for an examination.
The Vet examines me and decides my injuries are just superficial and no
lasting damage has been done to me. The Vet tells Master that, despite my
discomfort, they'll heal within days and I'll be "as good as new" in no
time at all.
The Vet listens as Master tells him of my time working as a field-slave and
the he gives his wholehearted approval of what had happened to me. Of
course, the Vet owns white slaves and I have heard that he doesn't spare
them the whip in his training and handling of them.
Naturally, it follows that he'd heartily approve of my treatment at the
hands of Sir Jazeel.
To be continued ....
You can find all the Jean-christophe stories at the archive
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories